Self examination Part I Grade School and Jr. High

As usual remember the disclaimer in the About Me section of this blog.

So today I’m going to take you with me as I relive experiences from my past to help explain who I am today. What prompted this ? I somehow happened across the program “Sex Rehab” on VH1. This was purely by accident as I seldom watch this station, but even if you aren’t into pop culture, this program is worth watching if you have the time. One of the things patients going through this program are encouraged to do, is look back on past experiences to help them understand the chain of events that brought them to the point they are at today.

This is something I’ve long resisted because I don’t want to be one of those people who blames their mistakes on something or someone else. You’ve all seen those people on Oprah or whatever white trash talk show program, whining about the reason they are a crack addict or bad worker, who can’t hold a job, on their parents not loving them enough or some such b.s. excuse. I am with you on taking a negative view on that. But at the same time this show helped me realize that we are all a product of our past experiences and we need to understand them to understand who we are today and how to not repeat the same mistakes. Before I begin, please understand that I accept full responsibility for my mistakes, I do not blame anyone or anything for them or for who I am today. ADD is NOT an excuse, it is just who I am. Also, I am very fortunate to have very supportive parents and friends. If anything, I have a concern for my parents because they wrongfully feel no small measure of guilt for not catching my condition early on in my childhood. There is no reasonable way it could have been caught given the state of Western Medicine’s understanding of ADD in the late 80’s-early 90’s along with how my ADD type showed itself.

So getting on topic here, one of the things they did on the last program, was draw a shirt that represented themselves and explain it. If it had been me, I would have draw a shirt with a dog-faced GI resembling something from the WW II Patrick Muldoon portrayal of GI’s or literally a scarred-up junkyard guard dog. In many ways I identify with those battered, ugly, undignified characters who somehow always find a way to get things done. While society often sees them as unwanted, society still calls upon them in their time of need because they can be counted on in those times. Yet those very same characteristics that make them desirable when the wolf is knocking on the door, also make them a liability in the calm between those times. They are loners, who don‘t fully understand the main stream society, that they struggle to be accepted by. And likewise main stream society doesn’t always accept them because main stream society doesn’t understand them. Both of us find interaction with the other very stressful and struggle to find a comfort level with the other. I’ll make more sense of that later on but with that in mind, lets start from the beginning.

I have always been a loner, sometimes by choice, many times not by choice. As far back as I can remember, I’ve struggled to fit in and be part of the crowd, but somehow always ended-up drawing unwanted attention to myself despite my best efforts. A revolving theme here is that kids would pick on me for being different, which would intern make me mad, which would intern provoke them to harass me more since they derived immense entertainment from my wild tantrums. Having red hair and poor social skills as it was, made me a very easy target in grade school through late high school. One incident that really stands out, happened in the third grade. I was playing a game of tag with a group of kids during recess. For starters, I had to practically beg them to let me play in the first place. They all ganged-up on me and whoever I tagged would tag me back or tag someone else who would tag me back. Eventually I lost my temper and went off to another side of the yard to calm down. Well they saw me getting frustrated and followed me, calling me names and so forth. Before I knew it, the entire play ground of say 50 kids was following me and the things they were saying were getting to me and I started to cry. Of course this only made things worse and a chant of some kind started going on, then someone threw a rock that caught me in the side of my head. To this day I don’t know who it was, but it caused me to snap. I turned around and grabbed the first boy I saw, whipped them into a head lock and threw them to the ground while throwing punches into his face. My adrenaline was flowing so much that I didn’t realize twelve other kids were jumping and stomping on us as we struggled on the ground, the boy being unable to free himself from my grip. To this day it bothers me, because it turned out that I had grabbed hold of Clint a fellow redhead who had been coming from the other side of the yard to my aide. Probably the one kid who would have stood-up for me, and I grabbed hold of him in my blind rage. He was just in the path of the tornado and we were never friends again, even in high school. I think my reaction to what was happening was to be expected and as much as anything, I’m very angry with the playground teacher who didn’t step in before a fight happened. This teacher was a Special-Ed teacher who of all the staff, should have been aware of what was happening. She worked everyday with special needs kids, and knew how this kids are treated by the rest of the children. Playground bullying stories were something she had to deal with everyday I the course of her work. Furthermore this chain of events clearly wasn’t going to end well and that should have been obvious to her long before the fight started. Why she did not step in when it became obvious that every single kid was following me, I never knew and it upsets me to this day. While in the inevitable meeting with the principle, she gave a very detailed account of the entire course of events. So its clear she had been watching the thing play out. She also recommended no disciplinary action for me. In hindsight, I fully believe she did so, to cover-up the fact that she had screwed-up big time. She knew my parents took an active role in my education and would have contacted the school and most likely wanted a meeting with her and the principle, Mrs. Beverly, whom they had a good relationship with. My mother taught in my school system for several years and had a lot of good relationships with the faculty. Mind you my parents were big on discipline so it would not necessarily have been to argue on my behalf but to get a better understanding of what had actually happened so they could better address the situation with me. It would have been a certainty that at minimum they would have called, if any kind of notice been sent home about little Mikey being in a fight. No nice what to say it, what a stupid, incompetent bitch that special-Ed teacher was. I also have feelings of guilt because I caught hold of the one person who would have had my back (Clint) and took it out on him. I regret never giving him the apology he is entitled to. Poor guy was simply caught in the path of the tornado.

I also regret not treating the other loner kids better than I did. I didn’t want to be their friends anymore that the rest of the kids wanted to be my friend. Painful as it is to admit, I picked on them a few times because I was grateful not to be among those being picked on some particular days and was also trying to make an attempt to fit in with the very same kids who, more days than not were tormenting me. I probably hurt them worse since I had been their friend or acted like it from time to time. I’m sure that just as I carry the scars from my tales of rejection, they have scars from the rejection given by my hand as well. I’m sure theirs are probably are much deeper having come from a kid who only a day before had acted as a friend to them. If any of you are out there are among those whom I picked on at times while going to school at Farmer Elementary, please accept my sincerest apologies. And Ms. X the playground teacher on that particular day, should you read this, allow me to sincerely say, “Go to HELL !!!”, you define the term incompetent BITCH and you give good teachers a bad name !!!

I think what came of that whole incident was that whatever chance I had of fitting in socially was gone. Also if I wasn’t a target for regular school yard harassment before that, I dam sure was after that. Granted there were a few minor skirmishes through out that time, but the next big one wouldn’t be till several years later in high school. My memory is sketchy on it, but it was definitely bad. Probably my subconscious has blocked most of it out preventing me from any specific recollection. I do remember a 5th grade health class where Mr. Foust pointed out my freckles to illustrate the different genetic variations of skin pigmentation and how I almost felt naked and embarrassed as this very unwanted spot light was thrust upon me. I also specifically remember spending most recesses in his classroom working on computer games because I had over heard kids scheming to attack me on the playground or arrange some sort of embarrassing harassment for me at one point or another that year. Whatever happened between third grade and the end of fifth grade has so impacted me, I know for a fact, that I made a deliberate decision to withdrawal from the rest of the children and deliberately isolate myself rather than subject myself to their daily taunting. The condition isn’t sever but one of the things kids were always taunting me about was my funny walk. I walk funny for a reason, I was born with a crocked leg. Mind you it isn’t noticeable and the doctors were able to correct the worst of it by having me wear a cast for my first year or so. But to this day, I walk funny. I bring this up because so desperate was I to avoid taunting, I caused myself some serious back problems trying to walk “normally” during this time. Combined with an injury suffered weight lifting, and I spent a lot of time at the chiropractor’s office from 7th-12th grade.

This would become so much so, that until the end of my 8th grade year, with few exceptions, most teachers would scarcely know I was in their classroom. I know this because my mother had actually taught Jr. High math at that school until just two years prior to me getting there. So she had a lot of contacts with those teachers and as I mentioned earlier, my parents were very involved in my education. Those teachers would express this concern wondering if there was something wrong when Mom and Dad would ask. Even then, I would still be subject to regular taunting from a whole different group of kids, for attention I received for a whole different reason. You see, I had a mild form of dyslexia, that had been caught in the first grade and had spent many hours in eye therapy.

By the end of the fifth grade, I started reaping the rewards of these efforts and had managed to become a stand-out student academically. So it wasn’t that the teachers didn’t know I was there. I would maintain straight A’s from the end of fifth grade till the end of eighth grade. Grades became my obsession because it was the only thing I was successful at. It was very hard for me, but I lived a very Spartan routine often studying six hours a day to maintain this GPA. So I couldn’t hide from the spotlight because I was always getting recognized for various academic accolades. So still I would suffer the slings and arrows of envious children who were trying to put me down in an effort to build themselves up. A kid by the name of Jason would torment me so much, on more that a few occasions Mom and Dad would meet with his parents and school administrators to find ways to deal with the situation. At one point things were so bad, at my parents request, he and I’s class schedules were changed so we weren’t always running into each other. By that time, I was enrolled in Fairview Jr. High which was the central Jr. High and High School for all the small elementary schools in the district. Any hope of a fresh start with new kids, was ruined when Jason and I crossed paths while attending 6th grade there. I can’t point to the exact chain of events, but it was early on in the school year when I became his chosen target. In hindsight, I realize Jason also had some sort of learning disability quite possibly the hyper active type of ADD where as I have the inattentive kind. I do know that he wasn’t a good student and even then realized he was trying to make-up for his lack of such academic prowess. Inside he felt that he was stupid and projected this insecurity onto me. I know this because the parents of one of the few friends I had, actually tutored him and was actively involved with my parents and school administrators in dealing with the situation. Also, Jason is now the landlord of a piece of property next door to my parents, and so our paths have crossed a few times since high school and we get along fairly well. If the neighbors are causing problems, Jason is very quick to deal with it and our families get along just fine. Crazy how things work sometimes.

Moving along, there were also two very positive stories that came out of my jr. high experiences that also had long term ramifications. First, I discovered the sport of wrestling and wrestling would help my development into manhood in so many ways. Now I did not willingly go out for the sport, but Mom and Dad felt some kind of participation in athletics was important to my overall growth. I was made to pick a sport, I could pick any sport, but I had to participate in one. Well basketball and football were what all the popular kids, who made-up the vast number of my tormentors, played ; so I wasn’t having that which left me with wrestling or track. I had participated in a peewee wrestling program while in the 5th grade and I didn’t know anything about track, so I chose wrestling. I could not have made a better choice. Wrestling is mainly an individual sport, which fitted my loner mentality well. It is also a very physically intense sport requiring great discipline to master, which also suited my ADD mentality. While I was never a super-stud, the physical discipline and confidence I gained from wrestling has served me well to this day. The confidence it gave me, was the catalyst that allowed me to go on to be a good soldier, and venture into the unknown world of college, and the experiences of the military and college have shaped me into the adult you know today. I can’t say enough good things about the sport, it really helped me out that much.

Also another positive experience I had in jr. high, was meeting a wonderfully sweet girl by the name of Jami. Jami was my first crush and while we would never actually date, she remains a friend to this day. Jami was everything I wasn’t. Gifted student who never had to study, very gifted athlete who ran with the “cool kids” if you will. But Jami was always nice to me, and she’d often go out of her way to say hello. I laugh when I think about it, but I was so shy by then I could barely muster the courage to say hello back. We had a math class together. The period before that class, I had a study hall, and I’d often get a pass to go to the band room to practice. But while in one of the “practice” rooms instead of practicing the tuba, I’d practice saying hello to Jami or simple jokes to make her smile. Over and over again I’d imagine her there and practice talking to her. I’d then go to math class and quite robotically say these practiced lines to her. Its safe to say, if I hadn’t met Jami, I might still be too shy to talk to girls. She was so nice, she never would judge my awkward efforts at conversation and talk to me like she would any of her cool friends. While we would never date, I would never have gotten any dates at all, had it not been for that relationship, which allowed me to overcome the overwhelming shyness I had around women. Math was never my strong subject anyhow, so it wasn’t like I was missing much by paying Jami so much attention. J As a side note, Jami still lives in my hometown area, has married a man just as nice as she is (I‘m NOT him), and teaches kindergarten at a neighboring school district. Its my understanding they recently had their first child. I still run into her every once in a while when I visit home as she’s friends with one of our neighbors although the last time we spoke I’d guess has been close to two years ago. I’m very happy for her and wish her and her family all the joys and happiness life can bring.

Now as I write this, I realize we’re at five pages on the old world processor, so I’m going to bring section one to a close and post another entry later this week. I think the experiences of elementary school and Jr. High did was shape me into the loner I’ve become. They made me immensely distrustful of anyone I associate as being part of my peer group. To this day I prefer keeping to myself and it takes great effort for me to engage in social activities. Whether we’re talking about a work social function or meeting a group of people for a barbeque, it takes immense effort for me to work-up the motivation to even show-up. When I do, after saying hello to the host and dignitaries, I tend to migrate to the corner of the room or far end of the bar engaging in small talk with the occasional straggler. I get extremely nervous moving about carrying food or revisiting the snack tray, always feeling like people staring holes through my chest waiting for me do something that will give them fodder to taunt me with. I’ll stay up the rest of the night fretting that people will conclude that I’m stupid because I accidentally bumped into someone, or scratched that nagging itch on the back of my knee. I imagine them whispering about me at work the next day because I nearly dropped an appetizer on someone while sneezing. In reality while that can happen sometimes, by an large its all in my head. In adult life more than once I’ve apologized to someone for a faux-pas I’ve spent several sleepless nights worrying over, only to find out that the person I was certain I offended hadn’t even noticed or didn’t find it to be anywhere near as serious as I was certain it was. A couple of them have even given quizzical looks as though I was crazy. Its also ingrained in me this anticipation that I’m always on the verge of certain disappointment. My heart has been broken and disappointed too many times in the past, that I instinctively protect myself by anticipating the worst. But I don’t think at this point I had yet developed the defensive mentality complex I’ve had to overcome. It certainly pointed me down that road though. That mentality would develop later. For that you’ll have to wait and read part II : High school, Puberty, Renewed efforts to fit in, and The glorious and very public failure it turned into.